Mercy Extended; Mercy Received!

Buzzzzz! Buzzzzz! It turned over and pulled the covers closer to my head. It was too early to get up. Buzzzz! Buzzzz! I tried to go back to sleep. Intermittently, the buzz sound came again waking me up each time. Finally, I got up and began my search. Where was that sound?

A familiar sound. I heard it as a kid when I captured the big Japanese beetles, the ones with the iridescent green backs. I got a kick out of holding them and hearing them buzz. This buzz was somewhere in my bedroom. How did it get in the house?

 I searched by the dresser. No sound. looked through some clothes on the chair. I looked around the chest. Silence. I looked in my basket of books and writing material.

 Then the buzz sounded again. Closer. On the bookcase was a beetle lying on his back, his green iridescent underside glowing brightly in the early morning light. Occasionally he would buzz. “Help, I can't get up.” I could see he was getting tired, almost giving up. I looked at him; he was pretty. I remembered again the times I had played with beetles such as he. I reached over and picked him up. He or she clung tightly to my fingers with prickly little feet. I walked through the house, opened the back door, and extended my hand to the breeze. He walked to the end of my fingers and flew off in the wind. So what, if he nibbled on a fig or two. The tree had plenty. I think this was called mercy. God talks a lot about mercy in the Bible.

 I had extended mercy. Two days later I experienced mercy as a gift—when I most needed it. My husband and I spent the afternoon at Laguna Beach walking on the sand, enjoying the sunset, dinning at a little restaurant in town. It was dark by the time we climbed in our SUV to drive home. As I started to back out I had the feeling I was too close to the car beside me. I stopped, jumped out and looked at the shiny, black Mercedes convertible sports car parked next to me. My fender touched it's fender. I quickly jumped back in my SUV and pulled up and jumped out again to examine car's fender. To my horror, there was a tiny scratch on that new black fender. My heart fluttered and quickly sank to my toes. I saw dollar signs on my insurance and quickly whipped out my mobile phone to take pictures.

 As I stood there, the owner walked up. Tall, more than six feet I guessed, and very good looking.

 “I am sorry,” I dejectedly. I scratched your beautiful new car. “Here is my insurance information.” He stooped down to examine the scratch, then stood up and smiled at me.

 “It's OK,” he said. I was stunned. He was being so nice.

 “Are you sure?” I replied. “You don't want my information?”

 “No, it's OK, really,” he said. And then he smiled again and gave me a big hug.

 A hug never felt so good. I was the recipient of mercy that I so badly needed.

 God is like that. He gives us mercy when we so badly need it.

Thanks for the Memories

I stood in front of my closet deciding what to wear for a day at the fair. I chose a white shirt with patches of antique cars—Fords, Model Ts, and old Chevy coups. Paired it with a pair of jeans and I was on my way to a fun day.

 That evening as friends and I entered a restaurant, an older, elegant, well-dressed man on a walker stared at me, a huge smile on his face. Puzzled I returned his gaze. Just as I was ready to ask if perhaps he was someone I had met before, he said, “Your shirt, it reminds me of the first Chevy coup I owned. The window rolled down in back. Oh, how I loved that car!” Then he proceeded to tell me about his first boyhood car. He said he hadn’t thought about it in years, but my shirt reminded him of his beloved Chevy coup. We chatted a little while.

As we parted, he thanked me for wearing the shirt that day and concluded with, “Thanks for the memories. You made my day.”

He made my day, too. We never know when we begin our day, in what ways we will be a blessing to others.

Give a Hug Today

As I read an article about hugs, the author said a hug made her feel “tethered.” I like that word. It’s cozy. I envisioned a field of heather with a pony tethered among the flowers, secure and grounded.

                One woman interviewed in the article that she had noticed a soldier getting off the same plane as she. His dejected look and slumped shoulders indicated that no loved one waited. She walked over to him, thanked him for his service to his country, and asked, “May I give you a hug?” His big smile was a yes. He had come home a day early. His family hadn’t been notified. He told her that she made his day. He made her day to

                I married my husband partly because he gave great hugs, all his six-foot and three-inch frame. Your children love an occasional hug, your dog does, too. You have none of these? I have a friend who loves hugs, but she lives miles away. We give each other a hug by phone.

                “How’s your day going?” I ask.

                “I really need a hug,” she will reply.

               “Ok,” I say, “I sending you a great big hug.” It’s like saying, “I love you.” And the other person replies, “I love you more,” like Michael Jackson used to say.

Hugs are good for your immune system and a tension leveler, research reveals. When I’m having an especially busy day, I stop for a hug—from my husband, to my big shepherd dog, or to my friend by phone.

                Give someone a hug today—it’s less expensive than a store bought card.  

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